An Introduction to a Teenage Carl Foutley
by CarCompanionBob
Summary: Times have changed... and so has Carl Foutley.


_Author's Notes:_

This is an introduction to the life lead by Carl Foutley; picking up where the animated series, As Told By Ginger, left off.

Though I try to keep somewhat close to the original feeling and spirit of the show- I tend to deviate to a darker, more adult theme with my fanfiction.

Also, the details and events mentioned **will not accurately follow 100 percent with the show**. I **_loathe _**certain things that they did with ATBG, especially towards the end.

So, I like to exercise a healthy dose of artistic liberty where I see fit. (The main rule, is that it has to seem plausible at all times. Like, if the show were written for older audiences, would "x" occur? Would it be in character? I think that's very important.)

I wrote this for the **role-play/fanfiction project** I've been working on. This is like a basic intro to catch up potential role-play partners, so we are on the same page, so to speak. That being the case, I'll probably tweak a few things here and there, and update this occasionally.

One thing I would like to point out that **this is not an interactive story** - but that the offer goes out to anyone who might be interested - **to join me in role-playing this off site**, and maybe write some fanfiction together that we could post here.

That said, pour yourself a cup of coffee, and enjoy catching up a bit with Carl Foutley. ;)

- CarCompanionBob

* * *

_**Times have changed - and so has Carl Foutley.**_

_--_

Where did it all start to go wrong?

If you asked him, he'd either snap at you to "can it!", or mutter _"classified"_ - with an eye narrowed in your direction.

--

The teen years are kind to no one, and Carl is no exception.

--

One can only speculate that the distrust of the Lucky Junior High School faculty didn't help to bring out the best in the mischievous young man. Though insistent that he was truly a good guy deep down - Carl soon tired of having to continuously prove himself and fight his haunting permanent record. _"If you can't beat 'em... Join 'em."_

His fascination with shock value and the grotesque had caused rising worry for the school faculty throughout his Jr. High years - as they had often informed his mother, Lois, about the various concerns they held for his well being, and that of the students around him; especially since Carl had more recently taken to a more violent means of expression.

Terrence was a favorite victim of his; the large boy had always been prone to cause trouble and take to fighting. _He was easy to provoke._ "A bully to bully", as Hoodsey would put it. In holding the position of right-hand man - Robert J. Bishop - so rightfully dubbed Foutley's 'moral compass' - took it upon himself to call Carl on his changing for the worse, and making choices that - "hit below the belt."

Carl would listen. He'd even thank Hoodsey for being so straightforward and frank with him on such issues. Yet, it seemed impossible for him to reform from his downward decent into aggression and the forming of destructive habits.

Noelle Sussman took notice.

It wasn't easy attending a different school than her troubled boyfriend - whom she felt more and more distant from. Her jealous eye gleamed with a distorted grimace on her face, at the thought of that Polly Shuster being more accessible to him. Yet, it was with a dark smile from within herself, that she noted that this worked to her advantage.

Her record wasn't clean.

Her eyes wandered, as did her interest. She couldn't deny that to herself.

It just wasn't working for her anymore. "You've changed Carl Foutley! I can't be with you anymore. I've seen you with Polly Shuster! Don't think that I haven't!"

Blake Gripling had not too long ago introduced her to a mutual friend he knew from the country club, whom so opportunely attended her school. He was tall, eccentric and out of touch - but with dashing manners that made her blush.

The knowledge of this trick was simply too delicious for Blake to keep to himself, of course... and soon Carl knew.

--

_Plunging yet deeper into a darker place..._

_--_

_Nights passed... lying on the floor in his darkened doghouse, comforted by the warmth of alcohol and the lull of music. _

_--_

_... Revenge. _

Was he losing his edge? He could only think now of bludgeoning Noelle's new love interest into a bloodied pulp - and he knew he couldn't ask Hoodsey to help him on this one. He'd fail to see how this revenge was justified.

Somehow... Carl didn't care about that. Only that the bitterness wasn't going away.

--

--

_And... he was alone._

_--_

Somewhere down the line...

- during one particularly physical fight with Blake - they found themselves tangled up in heated wrestling over the highly coveted eyeball. The brawl became too much.. and the jar happened to slip out of both of their opposing grasps - coming down with a terrible smash onto the floor... - right as Hoodsey dashed in to discover the cause of all the commotion. Heavily distracted by the chaotic scene upon bursting in, he immediately slipped on the formaldehyde that pooled on the floor near the doorway and fell heavily - smashing the eyeball - much to everyone's dismay.

To comfort himself in this great loss, Carl numbed the pain by hitting the booze - which he had recently and unfortunately turned to as a means of dealing with the sting of the hard times. His connections with Stuart Higsby (the infamous older sibling of Brandon, who dabbles in selling contraband) - and Dwayne the garbage guy, hooked him up with the otherwise unobtainable alcohol.

Engrossed in this mope-fest, Carl limply flipped through a recent newspaper, and found his way to the obituaries.

_Bad idea..._

_Images flooded his mind... that of a smashed eye and glass on the floor... and of death cloaked eyeballs sleepily sunken into the heads of the dead..._

He grabbed some tools, and rushed out into the night, pursuing a drunken escapade at the cemetery; venturing to exhume the newly interred casket of a _Mr. Coswell_ - and to remove an eye from the freshly embalmed corpse. Too bad for Carl, he was too drunk to recall the night watchman - _Logan _- (whom he had a few brushes with in the past) and his two vicious dogs, _Adolf and Kane._

He was apprehended with shovel and crowbar in hand - before he was even a foot in the grave. Officer Killgallen was called (much to the delight of Miranda, Courtney and Blake) - and Carl was cuffed, and taken downtown. After he served some community service time, (not to mention the hefty fine, and the wrath of his mother) he returned back to normal life just in time to start high school.

This so called "fresh start" wasn't looking too bright. The school faculty hadn't forgotten him, and had been thoroughly informed of his tangle with the law over the summer. The fact that he was now a high school student, seemed to make them even more cautious than before. _"I've got my eeeeeeeyyyyyeee on you, Foutley."_ - this phrase seemed ubiquitously upon the lips of every teacher and faculty member.

--

Exhausted and defeated, Carl had set into his freshman year with an aim of being as low key as possible.

--

--

_But that..._ _wouldn't last._

_--_

- End


End file.
